Binding Ties

'Interesting. Can I quote you?'

'This conversation isn't going to improve, is it?'

'You know, Gil-I don't think so.'

'Suppose I got a court order?'

'To improve the conversation, or to try to get me to reveal a source? Do you really think either one would work?'

'Probably not,' he admitted.

'But look at it this way, Gil-you can tell Jim Brass you gave it the ol' CSI try, right? Give me a C, give me an S, give an ay-yi-yi? What does it spell?'

'Goodbye, Jill.'

Perry Bell still wasn't answering his cell phone and Grissom was having trouble tracking down the reporter's daughter. He finally got through to the dorm room, only to find out from Patty's former roommate that the young woman had taken an apartment this semester. Grissom asked for the phone number, but the former roommate said she didn't have it.

'We didn't get along,' the roommate said. 'She got really pissed at me for barfing on her rug that time. I mean, like it was my fault!'

'Barfing on her rug wasn't your fault?'

'No way! I was drunk, wasn't I?'

Grissom, filing away the conversation as the sociological oddity it was, thanked the roommate.

He didn't really get anywhere until contacting Sergeant O'Riley's old LA buddy Tavo Alvarez, who called back in half an hour with what he'd learned: It seemed Patty was using her mother's maiden name, Lang, on her UCLA registration. From there it was nothing to get her phone number.

He tried her apartment first, but the young woman didn't answer. Next, he tried her cell phone and she finally picked up on the third ring.

'Hello.'

She had a sweet voice with a smile in it. Faint traffic sounds made it clear she was in a car.

'Patty Lang?'

'Yes. Who's this? I don't recognize the voice.'

He identified himself and told her about trying to locate her father.

'Wish I could help, Mr. Grissom. Daddy called me, day before yesterday…to tell me he wouldn't be coming out after all?'

The girl's up-lilting sentence/questions reminded Grissom of Sara's cadence, a Valley Girlish lilt that he rather liked, for no objective reason.

'Did he say why he cancelled seeing you?' Grissom asked.

'Yes. He said he was about to break a big story. One as big as CASt-one that would 'put him on the map again?' '

'Did he tell you what that story was?'

She laughed once. 'Do you know my father very well, Mr. Grissom?'

'Fairly well.'

'Has he ever told you about a story before it appeared in print?'

'No. You make a good point, Patty.'

Her tone turned serious. 'Do you think there's something wrong? With my father, I mean? Is he in some kind of trouble, or danger?'

With a father who worked the crime beat, Patty having this reaction seemed natural to Grissom.

'We don't think so. We just wanted to talk to him about an ongoing investigation. Everyone seems to be under the impression he was in LA with you.'

'Well, that had been the plan. But a 'big scoop' came up-of course, with my father, it could be ice cream!'

She laughed, and Grissom smiled, but he could hear a shade of worry in her voice.

'Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. Grissom?'

'No,' Grissom said. 'Thanks for your time.'

'Would you…do me a favor?'

'Of course, Patty.'

'When you do see Daddy, tell him he better call me. You've got me kinda worried.'

'Sorry. Not my intention.'

'But it's that kind of world, isn't it, Mr. Grissom?'

He didn't lie to her: 'Yes it is, Patty. Thank you. Good-bye.'

'Bye!'

He cut the connection and sat back in his chair.

If Bell wasn't in LA-if he was working on a 'big scoop' here in Vegas-why hadn't the crime writer been into the office for two days?

Or was the 'story' a fabrication to give him the opportunity to kill Enrique Diaz while the world thought he was out of town? But if Perry had been trying to assemble an alibi, why would somebody who knew his way around criminal matters create such a tissue-thin one? Call the daughter, and poof-bye-bye alibi.

The longer they were unable to locate Perry Bell, the more the questions mounted. As one of the few people on the planet who might actually gain from the resurgence of this vicious serial killer, Bell had no alibi for the first murder and had disappeared completely right before the second.

Then, a keycard from Bell's workplace turns up in the hand of the second victim. Had the victim managed to snag it from Bell, as a dying clue?

Grissom normally rejected such overly convenient and clever 'clues' as something out of Ellery Queen or Agatha Christie. He was reminded of the old movie cliche-it's quiet out there…too quiet….

Perry Bell was looking like a good suspect.

Too good.

The ride through the Delamar Mountains up 93 had been even more boring than Brass had anticipated.

As scenery, mountains did not really do it for him; the fascination some people had for rock formations missed him. And for company, Damon was only half a notch above the mountains. The NLVPD detective had two subjects: shop and professional wrestling. Brass had about as much interest in what the North Las Vegas boys were up to as he did about a sport that had a script….

After what seemed like only one lifetime, they pulled up to the main gate of Ely State Prison. Eight buildings, broken down into four connected pairs, made up the maximum security penitentiary. Twelve-foot-high chain-link fence topped with concertina wire formed the perimeter, along with four three-story concrete guard towers at each corner.

A guard with a clipboard came out of the air-conditioned shack next to the gate, his walk that distinctive combination of authority and indifference that characterized the breed. He wore dark glasses and a campaign hat pulled down low.

Brass rolled down the window as the guard approached.

'May I help you?' the guard asked, though the subtext was: Why did you bring me out into this heat?

Brass and Damon both showed their IDs.

'We're here to see a prisoner,' Damon said.

The guard had a no kidding expression.

Brass said, 'We're on the list.'

The guard was already checking the clipboard. 'Yeah, here you are. You guys know the drill?'

'I do,' Brass said.

The guard ambled off.

Damon asked, 'What is the drill?'

'Well, it starts with hurry-up-and-wait.'

They boiled in the sun for close to five minutes before the guard finally came out of the shack again and